


Not a Jungle

by Salamander



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, fyeahleonxkrauser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/Salamander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not a jungle. Not this time, but the damp heat reminds Leon of South America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Jungle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moochusrex](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=moochusrex).



> Prompt by my bestest bro Moochusrex, who asked for: molestation in the jungle. It's not quite, but almost~

It's not a jungle. Not this time, but the damp heat reminds Leon of South America.

Their fights are the same; hot, fast and intense. Leon knows Krauser's every instinct like he knows his own – when he'll parry, when he'll move in close – and he especially knows that snarl as they clash, knife hilts crossed and breathing each other's air until he cannot tell himself from his comrade.

Leon's fingers brush Krauser's knuckles as they sway together, and that tiny intake of breath is all the opening he needs. He pulls Krauser in with his free hand implacable at the wrist as they kiss. Krauser acquiesces – not soft and pliant, never that – but hard and unforgiving, all teeth and growls as Leon's blade finds his throat and Krauser's own dipping low until it brushes soft belly.

Le breaks the kiss to trace a line of red down Krauser's collarbone, marking his possession plain almost to bone. Krauser's head tips back and he gasps as Leon yanks his pants open.

“Fuck,” he spits as Leon takes hold of him, dragging knifepoint down torso until it joins his hand, the sharp bite of metal almost enough to send him over the edge.

“Pants down,” Leon says, hoarse and harsh through his lust. He pushes Krauser to kneeling, the very tip of his knife grazing a path up Krauser's neck. He follows, Krauser working at his buttons until they open and then it's Leon gasping at the calloused touch, that perfect roughness that reminds him of jungle heat and damp breath just like the feeling of pushing into Krauser does.

Krauser forsakes his knife in favour of hard fingers pressing Leon in deeper. He moans as Leon's knife comes up again, the flat against his Adam's apple for a second before it's thrust into the ground. Leon increases his pace, breath coming in harsh pants, now, and his fingers digging into loose earth for purchase just as Krauser's own dig into his hips.

With a grunt, Leon comes, the noise guttural in his throat. His last shuddering thrust brings Krauser to climax, nails digging crescent moons into Leon's hips as he chokes out a 'fuck!'

Leon's grin shows teeth as he pulls out, taking no care to be gentle. His legs feel a little weak, but he manages to stand and hoist Krauser up too. Now, as ever, they fall back into their easy routine of fight-fuck-fight, and Leon thinks perhaps he shouldn't like it so much, but then he remembers the way the sun looked through tall trees and thinks maybe it's not such a bad thing after all.

They fall into an easy cool-down, weapons retrieved and still barely a word spoken; their dance leisurely now, and quiet as a snake through the undergrowth.


End file.
